"Flagslam Competitive Spoken Word," a video from Taylor Miller

Canadian slam poet Mona Faith Mousa headlines the Sedona Poetry Slam on March 12 (CFG's birthday)

Mona Faith Mousa

Canadian slam poet Mona Faith Mousa headlines the Sedona Poetry Slam on March 12. Poets are invited to compete at the fourth slam of the 2015-16 season, which kicks off at 7:30 p.m. at the Mary D. Fisher Theatre, 2030 W. SR 89A, Suite A-3 in West Sedona.

All poets are welcome to compete for the $75 grand prize and $25 second-place prize. Tickets are $12. Call Mary D. Fisher Theatre at 282-1177 or visit the Sedona International Film Festival website.

Contact host Christopher Fox Graham at foxthepoet@yahoo.com to sign up to slam.

Graham will also be celebrating his birthday on March 12, which he shares with writers Jack Kerouac, Dave Eggers, Carl Hiaasen, Naomi Shihab Nye and Gabriele D'Annunzio.

 

Mona Faith Mousa

Inspired by several Canadian and American slam poets, Mousa found herself in an addictive relationship with the written and spoken word. At 17 she hit the stage for the first time at Toronto’s well-known annual Open Minds Respect events. Nine year later Mousahas been on the road almost nonstop, having recently come off her 2015 Summer tour schedule to the southern United States, and Hawaii.

Mona Faith Mousa

Over the past 9 years Mousa’s mission has been to work to empower young adults engaging them in discussion. The mission is about promoting real love, love as an action that we commit to unconditionally. This love is about safe spaces no matter one's religion, social class, gender or sexual orientation. The mission is education & tolerance, no exceptions. It’s about a queer-positive and body-positive state of mind. The mission is mental health awareness, and letting people know that rescue is possible, that everyone's story is important . It’s helping turn scars into stories.
Mousa's charm and passion drive her and she is ready to take North America by storm, as one of Canada's most promising, up and coming performance poets.

Mona Faith Mousa

“[Mona Faith Mousa] has a maturity in her voice beyond her years,” wrote Will McGuirk, of Oshawa This Week, in Oshawa, Ontario, Canada. “That is due to her openness to experience of a deeper order. Poetry arises from activity, sure, but more importantly from connectivity. Poems can be found in subdivisions, on courts, in driveways.

“One needs only the right equipment to catch them, equipment Mona has in ample amounts. She will show you where to look among the strip malls and the pylons. There are heroes in the suburbs.

“Mona is an awesome up-and-coming performance poet,” said Brendan McLeod, of The Fugitives, a spoken word troupe based in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. “She's funny, charming, thoughtful and even a bit audacious. I heartily support her work as an emerging Canadian spoken word artist.”

 

What is Poetry Slam?

Host Christopher Fox Graham will also be celebrating
his birthday on Saturday,  March 12, which he shares
with writers Jack Kerouac, Dave Eggers, Carl Hiaasen,
Naomi Shihab Nye and Gabriele D'Annunzio.

Slam poetry is an art form that allows written page poets to share their work alongside theatrical performers, hip-hop artists and lyricists. While many people may think of poetry as dull and laborious, a poetry slam is like a series of high-energy, three-minute one-person plays. All types of poetry are welcome on the stage, from street-wise hip-hop and narrative performance poems, to political rants and introspective confessionals. Any poem is a “slam” poem if performed in a competition. All poets get three minutes per round to entertain and inspire the audience with their creativity.

Poets in the Sedona Poetry Slam come from as far away as Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff, competing against adult poets from Sedona and Cottonwood, college poets from Northern Arizona University, and youth poets from Sedona Red Rock High School’s Young Voices Be Heard slam group.

To compete in the slam, poets will need three original poems, each lasting no longer than three minutes. No props, costumes nor musical accompaniment are permitted. The poets are judged Olympics-style by five members of the audience selected at random at the beginning of the slam. Poets who want to compete should purchase a ticket in case the roster is filled before they arrive. The prize money is funded in part by a donation from Verde Valley poetry supporters Jeanne and Jim Freeland.

The Sedona Poetry Slam will be hosted by Graham, who represented Northern Arizona on nine FlagSlam National Poetry Slams in 2001, 2004-06, 2010, 2012-15. Graham has hosted the Sedona Poetry Slam since 2009.

 

2015-16 Sedona Poetry Slam Schedule

The slam is the fourth of the 2015-16 season, which will culminate in selection of Sedona’s fifth National Poetry Slam Team, the foursome and alternate who will represent the city and the Verde Valley at the National Poetry Slam in Decatur, Ga., in August. The first three poetry slams took place Oct. 10, Jan. 2 and Feb. 6 slam. Future dates include:

• Saturday, April 9, featuring Ryan Brown
• Saturday, May 7
• Saturday, May 28 Grand Slam

The final Grand Poetry Slam takes place on May 28, to determine the team. The poets who make the team on May 28 to represent Sedona will share the stage at the week-long National Poetry Slam with 350 of the top poets in the United States, Canada and Europe.

Sedona sent its five-poet first team to the 2012 NPS in Charlotte, N.C., its second to the 2013 NPS in Boston and Cambridge, Mass., and its third and fourth to Oakland, Calif.

Founded in Chicago in 1984 by construction worker Marc Smith, poetry slam is a competitive artistic sport. Poetry slams are judged by five randomly chosen members of the audience who assign numerical value to individual poets’ contents and performances. Poetry slam has become an international artistic sport, with more than 100 major poetry slams in the United States, Canada, Australia and Western Europe.

"Clyde Tombaugh" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Clyde Tombaugh"

A companion poem to "Dear Pluto"

The Kansas boy stares into the sky
counting stars with his fingers
pretending he can touch each one
playing piano keys with constellations

Clyde Tombaugh

the spheres make music most us will never hear
but he orchestrates symphonies
oboes in Orion
clarinets in Cancer
violins in Virgo
percussion rumbling off supernova timpanies
snare drums on the skin of black holes
while spinning quasars keep perfect rhythm

the boy, now a teen measures stars with his telescopes
built from leftover parts
shaping steel and mirrors
to bend the light down into his hands
he wants to hold the weight of stardust in his palm

the boy, now a man,
works on Mars Hill
the evening shift at Lowell Observatory
scouring the images for differences
one single speck out of place
but these were skies he could paint from memory

on a night like tonight
a cold February
the man became a boy again
when he found a spot hide-and-seeking with him
telling him the stars and planets were looking back at us
an undiscovered instrument making music he was the first to hear
a ninth symphony he held for a moment
heard alone, echoing in solitary discovery
before he shared it with the world

76 years later,
nine years after his death
mankind's ship in a bottle
broke the bonds of earth to reach out
and find New Horizons
in the cold dark of space

Clyde Tombaugh's ashes aboard New Horizons

in a case no bigger than heart of a boy
now 2.97 billion miles from Kansas
from Mars Hill
from our entire history
are the ashes of the man who first heard the music

after six years alone in the dark
he traveled farther than anyone in history
to visit a world unseen by human eyes
and last July, the man became a boy again
matching his imagination to the globe in front of him
visiting an undiscovered country held for a moment
a solitary discovery
before he shared it with the world


at that distance, signals and light take 4 and half hours to reach home
in those hours, Clyde Tombaugh,
you had a world captivated in the silence
waiting 4 billion years
for someone to visit

what did you talk about?

did she ask what the sun feels like when so much closer?
how it warms your skin in summer?

did she tell you her story?
what it’s like to be so far away, alone in night?
how her years pass in centuries?

did you tell her about us?
about Kansas
about Mars Hill
about what it feels like to hold stardust in your palm?
did you tell her there were 7 billion boys and girls back home
waiting to see her for the first time?

was she eager to meet you since she first saw you
playing hide and seek with your telescopes
or counting stars with your fingers

or did she just sing a song?
one half of an unfinished duet
a harmony you already knew
something slow and beautiful
a secret only two lovers can understand

"The Crowd's Choice" by Jesse Parent

Yeshua bar-Abba, (Jesus Barabbas, a Hellenization of the Aramaic בר אבא) is a figure mentioned in the accounts of the Passion of Christ, in which he is an insurrectionist whom Pontius Pilate freed at the Passover feast in Jerusalem, instead of releasing Yeshua of Nazareth, better known as Jesus.

Subscribe to Button! New video daily: http://bit.ly/buttonpoetry
If you loved this poem, check out Javon Johnson: http://bit.ly/1xkYEPp
Performing during prelims at the 2014 Individual World Poetry Slam.

Follow Button on Facebook: http://on.fb.me/SG5Xm0

About Button:

Button Poetry is committed to developing a coherent and effective system of production, distribution, promotion and fundraising for spoken word and performance poetry.

We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry's audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.

"Space Oddity" by David Bowie, performed by Canadian astronaut Cmdr. Chris Hadfield

A revised of David Bowie's Space Oddity, recorded by Cmdr. Chris Hadfield on board the International Space Station.

Composition: “SPACE ODDITY”
Written by David Bowie
Published by Onward Music Limited

(Note: This video cannot be reproduced and is licensed for online music use only.)

With thanks to Emm Gryner, Joe Corcoran, Andrew Tidby and Evan Hadfield for all their hard work.

Captioning kindly provided by CHS (www.chs.ca)

From the album “Space Sessions: Songs From a Tin Can.” Available everywhere now.
CD/LP: http://www.smarturl.it/SpaceSessionsPhys
Download: http://www.smarturl.it/SpaceSessionsDL
Stream: http://www.smarturl.it/SpaceSesionsStrm

Synthespians. Cause nerds are awesome

Robots, cyborgs, holograms and computers. Oh my. From Star Wars, to Robocop to The Jetsons; 66 famous synthetic characters from your favorite TV shows and movies. By Scott Park.

A bit of a fact-check

Nick Fox, the founder of the Flagstaff Poetry Slam, returned to Flagstaff recently. In his blog "... said the Fox," he posted "The Hourglass Point: Arizona in Three Parts" on Oct. 5, 2015. It's an interesting rewrite of interpersonal history and while acknowledging some of his past, he's still playing some of the silly games he did when he lived in Flagstaff.

In that post, he acknowledges that the slam he started is still running: "I enrolled at Northern Arizona University, moved to Flagstaff, and started a poetry slam in a bar called The Alley. Fifteen years later, that show is still running."

In part II, Nick Fox discussed Christopher Lane, who died in August 2012:

"I could write a great deal about that road. But right now, I’d rather write about Christopher Lane.

"When I started the Flagstaff Slam in 2000, a poet from Dallas who’d recently moved to the area became a regular, and eventually became a member of the first Flagstaff team to compete at the National Poetry Slam in 2001. When I left town in 2002, Christopher helped take over the show, then took it in directions I never dreamed of.

"He founded a group called NORAZ Poets in 2003, and used it to to help facilitate workshops, run shows and, most impressively, to create the Arizona branch of the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project. He became one of the most important poets and community organizers in the state, performed hundreds of times for people of every age range. He’d been through extraordinary hardship in his life, and had somehow emerged as one of the most generous and thoughtful artists I’ve ever met.

"One day in 2012 I got an email from Brent Heffron. Christopher had died. He lay down one day to take a nap and never woke up. He was only 40 years old."

This isn't entirely accurate. Lane didn't take a nap and not wake up. "On Aug. 19, 2012, at 7:05 a.m., Lane was pronounced dead at his home from benzodiazepine and narcotic intoxication, according to the Coconino County Medical Examiner's Office."

[Addendum: The poem Autopsy 3944494]

This was more convoluted that Nick Fox makes out. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he's sugarcoating the issue, but the bottomline is that Lane had been in AA and NA since moving to Sedona, having been on meth for a good portion of his teens and 20s. He moved to Sedona to stay with his sister fearing that if he stayed in Dallas, he would die there.

After being sober for quite some time in Sedona, and having effectively quit attending meeting, he got a job as a sommelier at a Sedona resort. He had been a waiter for more than a decade. In the months (maybe longer, I have no idea) he began drinking a bit with a coworker of his I knew and told mutual friends he felt like he could handle his alcohol -- none of this I knew until after he died.

While at the newspaper, I found his name in a traffic stop for a potential DUI, which struck me as very odd considering I only knew him to be clean and sober, but trusting how reckless and resilient we artists are, just assumed he had briefly fallen off the wagon, was shocked back to sobriety by the traffic stop, and would the be the substance-free straight-edge poet we all knew. I heard he then left the sommelier job and began working at a local health food grocery store. A few times in that last year I would see him walking along State Route 89A as he lived right across the road. I was told by these mutual friends that he would walk from work to the liquor store, then walk home. 

At some point nearing his 40th birthday, Lane went back to visit friends in Dallas. Based solely on information from mutual friends, it appears he may have acquired something from them there that he brought home, which may have lead to his overdose.

"We hadn’t been in touch for a couple of years. Not on purpose. Nothing had happened. I’d just moved into a different life and didn’t see him or talk to him much for a while. Then not at all. We simply lost touch."

This isn't quite accurate. When Nick Fox was still living in Flagstaff in 2001-2022, he decided that my 22-year-old partying and lifestyle needed an intervention, so he drove down to Oak Creek Canyon to convince Lane to join him in the effort. Lane was less than impressed with the proposal, and said that after all his experience in the drug scene in his 20s that my binge drinking was nowhere near the troubles his had encountered. 

Lane told me after the fact that the issue was Nick Fox, being the son of an alcoholic he could not save, was doing whatever he could to save others. Lane said he more or less laughed at the idea, or at least told me that's more or less whet he said to Nick Fox: Stop trying to save people who don't need saving and deal with actual loss in your actual life. Again, this is hearsay, but it what's Lane said to me at the time.

After Nick Fox left the area and Lane and I developed our friendship, Nick Fox's sanctimoniousness kind of became a butt of jokes between us. At poetry afterparties he'd joke that if I had one to two many beers or whiskey's that "Nick Fox will hear you." Granted, I have no idea what their personal relationship or correspondence was, but considering all the gossip Lane and I did about poets in the scene, it's suprising how little and how rarely Nick Fox came up except maybe when we'd bump into him at the National Poetry Slam.

Nick Fox continues: "When I first met Christopher, he was living in a trailer on a ridge in Oak Creek Canyon, right above a general store that sold jewelry and served impossibly good sandwiches. It was a peaceful place, both secluded and close enough to the main highway to take his motorcycle out on long rides across the state. We used to sit under the awning of his trailer and talk about writing. I was always blown away by his sensitivity, his incredible ability to empathize. He became a mentor to a lot of people in the poetry scene almost from the beginning, and it came as no surprise to me when I heard about the world-shaping work he was doing in the time after I left the state."

Photo by Nick Fox

"Christopher lived on the ridge just behind this store.

"I stopped at the old general store and walked around. I kept looking up that ridge where Christopher had his home. I’ve spent most of my life trying to learn how to write, to share what I’ve picked up, to have some small impact on the people around me. I want people to know about Christopher Lane, and I hope that talking about him and writing about his life is a small way of continuing what he did. It’s astonishing what this guy put together in Arizona in less than a decade. I’d like to have even a share of the impact on the people around me that Christopher had on me and everyone he touched. Maybe I can do that. I hope so."

Part III relates to Flagstaff. It reads in part: "The Flagstaff Slam, after years of moving around, is back in the same location it started in. The location houses a completely different business in a completely redesigned room, but it was kind of beautiful for me to come back and see the show running in the same spot as it was in my early twenties. Deep down, I sort of hoped I’d see some of those old faces at the show. Brent [Heffron]. Logan [Phillips]. Dom [Flemons]. Julie [?]. Frank [? Not O'Brian, he didn't move to Flagstaff until 2009]. Josh [Fleming]. Suzy [la Follette]. Christopher Lane. But it was a brand new, very young crowd, and it all felt very far away."

This part is hilarious because I was there that night and I made eye contact with him. It was clear he saw me because he looked at me long enough to realized he was looking at me, then did what he could to pretend to ignore me. The he took this photo, which he posted:

(really bad) photo by Nick Fox

He continues: "There was no one I knew there, and no one who knew me. Maybe that’s how it should be at this point. I’m thrilled the show is still running, but it would be foolish to say I have any real connection to it now. I started something 15 years ago, but it has taken dozens, maybe hundreds of people to keep it running this long. The show is theirs. It belongs to the city."

Good lord, Nick, who's that fedoraed man on the right?

No, to be clear, there's no love lost between Nick Fox and me. While he got me into slam and convinced me to leave the Phoenix area and join the scene in Flagstaff to help him run the FlagSlam and made me the slammaster, he also did some abosolutely shitting manipulative things to turn my poets against me. He fucked with my life and my reputation beyond which I am able to forgive, simply because he has not and will not accept the fact he did anything wrong.

Am I bitter? Yes. Is Nick Fox an ass? Yes.

So yes, Nick, the show is still running in spite of your efforts to make it about you. It survived you and your absence brilliantly. It feels far away because it should FlagSlam is beyond us both, but it is simply better without you. It is my home and safe harbor, where I asked the audience to turn my girlfriend into my wife, and where I have brought my newborn children to hear their first spoken word. You can live whatever fiction you want and wax poetic about good days gone, but they're gone because you behave the way you and mistreat the trust of those who are your betters.

In summary this: Around 2010, some FlagSlam poets came to my Sedona Poetry Slam with a collection of poetry they found at a thrift store recorded by FlagSlam poets. It was labeled "The House That Fox Built." And they were thrilled that poets from 2002 had created a CD dedicated not to some passerby with the surname Fox, but me. I have no reason to correct them. You may have poured the foundation, but I built the house and kept it standing these last 15 years.

"Mathematical Love Poem" by Jokyr

Jokyr at the Nerd Poetry Slam -

On the 600th aniversary of the Battle of Agincourt

St Crispin's Day Speech from William Shakespeare's "Henry V, Act IV Scene iii 18–67"

at the Battle of Agincourt, on St. Crispin's Day, Oct. 25, 1415

Ralph Neville, 1st Earl of Westmorland

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work today!

KING HENRY V. What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin, Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.

"Morning of the Battle of Agincourt, 25th October 1415,"
painted by Sir John Gilbert 1884

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispin's day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

During the Hundred Years’ War between England and France, Henry V, the young king of England, leads his forces to victory at the Battle of Agincourt in northern France.
Two months before, Henry had crossed the English Channel with 11,000 men and laid siege to Harfleur in Normandy. After five weeks the town surrendered, but Henry lost half his men to disease and battle casualties. He decided to march his army northeast to Calais, where he would meet the English fleet and return to England. At Agincourt, however, a vast French army of 20,000 men stood in his path, greatly outnumbering the exhausted English archers, knights, and men-at-arms.
The battlefield lay on 1,000 yards of open ground between two woods, which prevented large-scale maneuvers and thus worked to Henry’s advantage. At 11 a.m. on October 25, the battle commenced. The English stood their ground as French knights, weighed down by their heavy armor, began a slow advance across the muddy battlefield. The French were met by a furious bombardment of artillery from the English archers, who wielded innovative longbows with a range of 250 yards. French cavalrymen tried and failed to overwhelm the English positions, but the archers were protected by a line of pointed stakes. As more and more French knights made their way onto the crowded battlefield, their mobility decreased further, and some lacked even the room to raise their arms and strike a blow. At this point, Henry ordered his lightly equipped archers to rush forward with swords and axes, and the unencumbered Englishmen massacred the French.
Almost 6,000 Frenchmen lost their lives during the Battle of Agincourt, while English deaths amounted to just over 400. With odds greater than three to one, Henry had won one of the great victories of military history. After further conquests in France, Henry V was recognized in 1420 as heir to the French throne and the regent of France. He was at the height of his powers but died just two years later of camp fever near Paris.

The Kingdom of France

French casualties range from 7,000 to 10,000 (mostly killed) and about 1,500 noble prisoners. French notable casualties:

Leading officers:

Charles I d'Albret's arms

•     Charles I d'Albret, Count of Dreux, the Constable of France
•     Jacques de Châtillon, Lord of Dampierre, the Admiral of France
•     David de Rambures, the Grand Master of Crossbowmen
•     Guichard Dauphin, Master of the Royal Household

Three dukes:

•     Antoine of Burgundy, Duke of Brabant and Limburg, and consort Duke of Luxembourg (a brother of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy)
•     John I, Duke of Alençon-Perche, the second-in-command after d'Albret.
•     Edward III, Duke of Bar (along with his brother and nephew)

Seven counts (eight with d'Albret):

•     Philip of Burgundy, Count of Nevers and Rethel (another brother of John the Fearless)
•     Frederick of Lorraine, Count of Vaudémont (brother of Charles II, Duke of Lorraine)
•     Robert of Bar, Count of Marle and Soissons (nephew of Edward III, Duke of Bar).
•     John VI, Count of Roucy
•     Waleran III of Luxembourg, Count of Ligny and Saint-Pol (called "Count of Fauqemberg" in the chronicles)
•     Edward II, Count of Grandpré
•     Henry II, Count of Blâmont

Some 90 bannerets and others, including:

•     Jean de Montaigu, Archbishop of Sens
•     John of Bar, Lord of Puisaye (brother of Edward III of Bar)
•     Jean I de Croÿ, Lord of Croÿ-d'Araines and two of his sons, John and Archambaud
•     Jean de Béthune, Lord of Marueil
•     Gallois de Fougières, Provost Marshal, commemorated as the first French gendarme to lose his life in battle.

Among the circa 1,500 prisoners taken by the English, were the following French notables:

•     Jean Le Maingre ("Boucicaut"), the Marshal of France.
•     Charles of Artois (Count of Eu), the French Lieutenant of Normandy and Guyenne.
•     John of Bourbon (Duke of Bourbon-Auvergne-Forez), probably the greatest lord of southern France
•     Charles of Orleans (Duke of Orleans-Blois-Valois), a great lord of central France, titular head of the "Armagnac" party. (his brother, John of Orleans (Count of Angoulême-Périgord), another great lord, had been in English captivity since 1412).
•     Louis de Bourbon (Count of Vendôme)
•     Arthur de Richemont, brother of John VI, Duke of Brittany, step-brother of Henry V (he was the son of Joan of Navarre, dowager-queen of England).

The Kingdom of England

King Henry V's arms

At least 112 dead, unknown wounded. English notable casualties:

•     Edward of Norwich, 2nd Duke of York
•     Michael de la Pole, 3rd Earl of Suffolk
•     Dafydd Gam (Davy Gam) Welsh hero who reputedly saved Henry V's life at Agincourt
•     Jan I van Brederode

The largest and sharpest image ever taken of the Andromeda galaxy

This image, captured with the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope, is the largest and sharpest image ever taken of the Andromeda galaxy — otherwise known as M31.

This is a cropped version of the full image and has 1.5 billion pixels. You would need more than 600 HD television screens to display the whole image.

It is the biggest Hubble image ever released and shows over 100 million stars and thousands of star clusters embedded in a section of the galaxy’s pancake-shaped disc stretching across over 40,000 light-years.

This image is too large to be easily displayed at full resolution and is best appreciated using the zoom tool.

Credit:

NASA, ESA, J. Dalcanton (University of Washington, USA), B. F. Williams (University of Washington, USA), L. C. Johnson (University of Washington, USA), the PHAT team, and R. Gendler.

Music is 'Koda - The Last Stand' from Silk Music...
Listen: http://bit.ly/1ySODuV
Download: http://bit.ly/1CKxuE3
More from Silk Music: http://bit.ly/1ySE7p7

Happy Back to the Future Day

"Thrift Shop" by Lindsey Stirling & Tyler Ward (a Macklemore & Ryan Lewis Cover)

Published on Jan 15, 2013

Download this song on iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/thr...

This collab was so much fun to do. Tyler Ward is an amazing producer, singer, and he is so much fun to work with. Everything he does is amazing so you have to go check out his CHANNEL and SUBSCRIBE.
http://www.youtube.com/user/TylerWard...

We were not even planning on doing this song. We actually just went shopping at a thrift store for another project and we had so much fun that we decided we had to cover this. 2 days later the song and the video were done. Anyhow, Tyler and I have some other projects that will be coming out soon.

Be Tyler's friend too:
http://www.facebook.com/TylerWardMusic
https://twitter.com/TylerWardMusic

Follow me in all these cool places... if you want:)
https://www.facebook.com/lindseystirl...
https://twitter.com/LindseyStirling
http://www.lindseystirling.com/

Mobile App:
http://mobileroadie.com/apps/lindseyapp

Sheet Music:
http://lindseystirling.mybigcommerce....

Merchandise:
http://www.shopbenchmark.com/lindseys...

Tour dates/tickets:
http://www.lindseystirling.com/tour/
Tour Facebook app:
https://www.facebook.com/lindseystirl...

Check out my "Behind the Scenes" channel:
http://www.youtube.com/lindseytime

Sign up for my super-cool newsletter here ;)
http://lindseystirling.fanbridge.com/

Poets Love Stars

Gaze skyward and select a star
name it secretly,
the same name as the lover
you’ve longed to touch
if the circumstances of circumstances
loosed their vicious, tight grip
on the ribbon of choices that lead you here
and you could sail to them
like Peter Pan or Superman

now, pretend that this moment
is the last one worth holding
the flotsam floating
from the sinking ship of time

imagine as your vision dims and fades
as your body decays into dust
eternity will be you staring in blissful wonder
at one last image embossed forever
on the blackboard of your eyelids
in the abandoned elementary school of your life
time will stumble forward for living things,
but for you
at the moment your ghost
takes off its bodysuit
you’ll hang on this thumbprint of the world
no sinful heaven,
no sinless hell,
no ponderous purgatory
just one pure moment till the end of the end ends finally

pretend this is that moment
and that lover’s name
is the last one to echo through memory
kaleidoscoping all the dots and dates of your history
drawing a final picture of who
you always wished you were

this is that moment

I am pretending this moment, too
the way your name wraps around my frame like a blanket
thick with the smell of sex and ’80s punk rock

you hold a forever passport to my dreams
irrevocable despite your embargo of time
or the miles between our car crash collisions
that slam our bodies into each other
with evening newscast picture perfection

I’ll warn you now
that this poem lacks mathematical computations
calculating distances of our heartbeats
I won’t bore you with algorithms and complex probability equations
to explain why I love you

I'll warn you know that in daylight, I can’t gaze skyward
because you named all the clouds in my eye-scape
I try to repeat them like the 99 names of Allah
and somehow found YHWH was trying
to pronounce my name correctly

the last time I traveled the world
you asked me to bring you clouds and sunsets
but photographs lack depth
stories can’t change fast enough
poetry fails to articulate color
so I was doomed to fail you
you knew that before I left
but gave me a quest anyway
to test my sincerity
so all I have are the stars

I’ll warn you now
that this poem lacks ambiguity
I will not spend stanza after stanza
elucidating all your curves
without naming you as the owner
you will not be able,
in ages and ages hence
to claim this poem is for another lover
unless her name is Rebecca, too

now,
I have broken the oldest taboo of
all poets:
never name the girl
because the audience suddenly
gives the subject form and fixture
no longer is she vapor and ether
no longer a lover of theirs
no longer possibly them
strangers can bump into on the street
and say they already know her as the reason
poets love stars

I'll warn you now
in the space between midnight and dawn
I long to find you have taken
the Normandy beach of my doorframe
outflanked my defenders
slaughtered the POWs
and threaten occupation;
we promise no resistance
if you swear immediate annexation
strip me bare
and claim these lands as yours
you’ll find a nation of willing collaborators kiss me tiger stripes
transform my carcass into a buffet
eat of my body, broken for you
the bruises you inflicted have faded
retreated down to my bones
though in dreams,
they rise again to the surface
marking me like tattoos

I'll warn you now
that sitting next to you
for the first time in months
starring at the stars
I’m resisting the urge to lean over and kiss you
but we’re beyond that
better than that

children have those urges
and can’t keep their hands to themselves
but you and I have these stars:
but I do confess
my forever moment shares your name
I love not because I need to
but because I need you

"Pirates" by Justin Lamb, a poem coinciding with International Talk Like a Pirate Day

"Pirates" by Justin Lamb

Writing and performance by Justin Lamb
Video directed, shot and edited by Jonathan Evans

Justin Lamb is an educator, writer and a 2013 National Poetry Slam champion. A two-time Slam New Orleans Grand Slam Champion, Justin has represented New Orleans at regional and national competitions for the last four years as member of the nationally acclaimed Team Slam New Orleans (Team SNO). He is also the author of a live performance poetry album titled However It Turns Out Is Perfect. If you would like to enlist Justin to host a workshop or perform at a venue near you, you can contact him at: justin.a.lamb [a] gmail.com.

For more information, visit his website justinpoet.com.

Sedona Poetry Slam on Oct. 10 features Patrick Joseph and The Temple of Echoes

Poets are invited to compete at the first Sedona Poetry Slam of the 2015-16 season, which kicks off at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday, Oct. 10, at the Mary D. Fisher Theatre, 2030 W. SR 89A, Suite A-3 in West Sedona.

All poets are welcome to compete for the $75 grand prize and $25 second-place prize. Tickets are $12. Call Mary D. Fisher Theatre at 282-1177 or visit SedonaFilmFestival.org. Contact ChristopGraham at foxthepoet@yahoo.com to sign up to slam.

Patrick Joseph and The Temple of Echoes will perform at the first Sedona Poetry Slam of the 2015-16 season on Oct. 10.
Patrick is an internationally touring poet and executive director of the spoken word and film making education nonprofit
Digital Storytellers.Carrie Jean has just blown onto the San Francisco Bay Area vocal scene sitting in with various bands
in San Fransisco. The couple just got engaged on Tuesday, Sept. 15.

Featuring between rounds will the by the Patrick Joseph and The Temple of Echoes, a group that combines spoken word poetry with drum and bass/trip-hop, dubstep and live vocals. With music composed by Daniel Blumenfeld, vocals performed by Cheyane House and Carrie Jean, Temple of Echoes brings forth a high speed atmosphere of all around merry making. Innovating a fierce fusion of multiple strands of expression this project is intended to push poetry into a space of movement in both body and mind.

Patrick Joseph Ohslund is an internationally touring poet and executive director of the spoken word and film making education nonprofit Digital Storytellers. His credits include opening for The Wailers, featuring at the Guatemala City Poetry Slam, touring through most of the United States featuring and spotlighting at such venues as The Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York City, the Mercury Poetry Cafe in Denver and Da Poetry Lounge in Hollywood, Calif. When not getting lost in new places he leads weekly writing workshops in Oakland, Richmond and San Francisco. His poetry fluctuates between gusto driven lightning, light-hearted mad cap jubilee and carriage of personal testimony.

Carrie Jean has just blown onto the San Francisco Bay Area vocal scene sitting in with various bands in San Fransisco. Her singing style can be described as gusts of moonlit clouds with a soprano sweet like morning porch lemonade. She enjoys performing bluesy ballads and folksy dance tunes or anything that threads nostalgia, ether and the earth.

What is Poetry Slam?

Slam poetry is an art form that allows written page poets to share their work alongside theatrical performers, hip-hop artists and lyricists. While many people may think of poetry as dull and laborious, a poetry slam is like a series of high-energy, three-minute one-person plays. All types of poetry are welcome on the stage, from street-wise hip-hop and narrative performance poems, to political rants and introspective confessionals. Any poem is a “slam” poem if performed in a competition. All poets get three minutes per round to entertain and inspire the audience with their creativity.

Poets in the Sedona Poetry Slam come from as far away as Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff, competing against adult poets from Sedona and Cottonwood, college poets from Northern Arizona University, and youth poets from Sedona Red Rock High School’s Young Voices Be Heard slam group.

To compete in the slam, poets will need three original poems, each lasting no longer than three minutes. No props, costumes nor musical accompaniment are permitted. The poets are judged Olympics-style by five members of the audience selected at random at the beginning of the slam. Poets who want to compete should purchase a ticket in case the roster is filled before they arrive. The prize money is funded in part by a donation from Verde Valley poetry supporters Jeanne and Jim Freeland.

The Sedona Poetry Slam will be hosted by Sedona poet Christopher Fox Graham, who represented Northern Arizona on nine FlagSlam National Poetry Slams in 2001, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2010, 2012, 2013, 2014 and 2015. Graham has hosted the Sedona Poetry Slam since 2009.

2015-16 Sedona Poetry Slam Schedule

The slam is the first of the 2015-16 season, which will culminate in selection of Sedona’s fifth National Poetry Slam Team, the foursome and alternate who will represent the city at the National Poetry Slam in Decatur, Ga., in August.

• Saturday, Oct. 10
• Saturday, Jan. 2
• Saturday, Feb. 6
• Saturday, March 12, Graham's birthday
• Saturday, April 9
• Saturday, May 7
• Saturday, May 28 Grand Slam

The final Grand Poetry Slam takes place on May 28, to determine the team. The poets who make the team on May 28 to represent Sedona will share the stage at the week-long National Poetry Slam with 350 of the top poets in the United States, Canada and Europe. Sedona sent its five-poet first team to the 2012 NPS in Charlotte, N.C., its second to the 2013 NPS in Boston and Cambridge, Mass., and its third and fourth to Oakland, Calif.

Founded in Chicago in 1984 by construction worker Marc Smith, poetry slam is a competitive artistic sport. Poetry slams are judged by five randomly chosen members of the audience who assign numerical value to individual poets’ contents and performances. Poetry slam has become an international artistic sport, with more than 100 major poetry slams in the United States, Canada, Australia and Western Europe.

"Dear Pluto" by Christopher Fox Graham, celebrating NASA's new photos of Pluto

With the new photos of Pluto released by NASA's New Horizons probe today, it seemed apropos to republish this poem. When New Horizons left Earth in January 2006, it was still the ninth planet from the Sun. By August 2006, it was reclassified a dwarf planet.

Dear Pluto

By Christopher Fox Graham

To the planet formerly known as Pluto,

Though we will never meet
I think I know you

I am a speck of organic matter
standing on the surface of your sister
my people and I
are converted from ice and dust
electrified into existence
by the mere circumstances
of your sister Earth and nephew Moon
dancing with tide pools
when they were still in their infancy
mere molecules slammed together
and held onto each other in strings
which took billions of years
to mistake themselves in their reproduction
to form this all-too-young boy
sending you this letter
forgive my impetuousness, dear Pluto
but compared to you,
I only have a second
before this organic matter caves in on itself
becomes dust and water to form something new
all I have is my voice
and I beg you to listen
because although we will never meet
I think I know you

I’m not sure if you will receive this letter
In the time it takes to reach you,
I could bounce between here and the sun 16 times
measured on your timescale
my country is not even a year old yet

You’re farther away from the sun
than any of your siblings
and while the rest of those planets circulate in lockstep
in the same elliptical orbit
yours is full of highs and lows
as you rise above the plane
and drop beneath it
because you’re either bipolar
of just refuse to conform
be glad you’ve been able to do it so long
here, those who are different
either by choice or accident
wind up getting bullied, brutalized or crucified
and while I could explain what those words mean
let’s hope that by the time one of us stands on your surface
we’ve forgotten what they mean, too

At Lowell Observatory in the hills overlooking Flagstaff
astronomer Clyde Tombaugh picked you out from the black
he watched you wander at the edge of the solar system
and noted how you keep your distance
from everyone else like you

Charon and Pluto

I know what it feels like to be alone, too
there are times when people here
believe the sun is so far away they don’t feel warm anymore
and they stare out into the black
and wonder what’s like to just let go
I’m glad you’ve stayed with us, dear Pluto
you show us that even when the universe is terrifying cold
there’s some light to hold on to
some reason to keep moving
and even out there you and your moon Charon
prove you can find love anywhere

since we began to worship stars
we have followed your siblings
the rocky worlds, the gas giants
to us, if they were bigger than an asteroid or moon
and weren’t furnaces like the sun,
they were a planet
deserving the name of a god
an astrological house
and a certain amount of inexplicable reverence

you were nine children of a yellow sun
on the rural edge of the galaxy

but now because your size doesn’t fit new rules
the International Astronomical Union on my world
has decided you are no longer a planet
you don’t meet the qualifications anymore
you no longer govern an astrological house
they took you away from you were to us

because some ink on paper said you didn’t matter anymore
they put you a box labeled “dwarf planets” or “Plutoids”
only to be ostracized from your brothers and sisters
by faceless strangers at the stroke of pen

here, we label people too,
segregate them into boxes
based on the color of their skins
or which one of those gods they called out to while dying
or whether they love someone with the same or different parts
or in what way they their throats make noises to communicate
or even by where they were born
as if point of origin means anything
on a planet spinning 1,600 kilometers per second,
where specks like me have wandered to every part of it
tell me, dear Pluto
can you see the borders of our nations from out there?
it seems that’s all we can see down here sometimes
can you tell us apart?
if we one day reach you
dig our fingers into your dirt
would you care about what language we used
to tell each other how beautiful the moment was?

Dear Pluto,
I know what it feels like to be small
I’m still a little boy, too
playing grown-up games
wondering what happens
when there’s nothing left to orbit anymore

Though we will never meet
you don’t have to answer this letter if it ever reaches you
but I think you know me,
I am a tiny voice on your sister Earth
and you are Pluto, the ninth planet of the sun

Magicks Contained Beneath the Skin

Some magicks are best contained beneath the skin
while others should be loosed to the world,
unrestrained in an unyielding fury of kaleidoscopic colors
bedecked in cat ears or fox tails or deer antlers
a child’s wonder on their tongues and bellies full of fires
some are still the unpasteurized joy of days gone past
all tiger-teeth, shark-fang wildness of youth in its hooligan infancy
dancing in the moonlight of playing in a sealess playa
dreaming of cars turn mutant when swallowed in the dreams of artists
like those beneath her eyelids

Photo by David Schnack

do not fret the days when stars can still be counted as we once did
skipping digits while applicable or when unnecessary
knowing the final number was reachable
and always the same in the this county or the old

as the decades churn old histories into misremembered mysteries
of what-whens and who-hows Seuss would have created had he the lexicon
futures remain unwritten, though envisioned by madmen young boys never listen to,
coaxial lifespans stretch into the undreamed ether threading parallels when the geometry is right
yet the soft hands holding cracked hearts bend outward to find horizons
the foolish forgotten with half-bitten tongues wish for the best days
as yet-to-bes yet-to-comes rather than as what-may-have beens

and as the cycle of stars circles round a child-sun playing marbles in the dark,
on one, unremarkable in its ordinariness,
dances a spirit in tutus and feathers
Saturning her hips in hoops
marking one more checkbox of numbered years
toward days-to-comes
and soon-to-bes
and not-yet-nows
preparing smiles for the nightwandering desert dreams to sail in on the breeze
to sleep soundly until the next dawn asks her
how her sun rises

"To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter" by Jesse Parent

 "To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter" by Jesse Parent. Remember to wait for the addendum.Thanks to The Huffington Post, this video went viral last year.



Subscribe to Button! New video daily: http://bit.ly/buttonpoetry
Download the audio of this poem for FREE by clicking here: http://bit.ly/1nNHhCl
Jesse Parent, performing during the Coaches Slam at the 2014 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational.

Check out more from Jesse: http://bit.ly/1ij3uIp

Follow Button on Facebook: http://facebook.com/buttonpoetry

About Button:

Button Poetry is committed to developing a coherent and effective system of production, distribution, promotion and fundraising for spoken word and performance poetry.

We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry's audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.

Miley Cyrus vs Joan of Arc. Epic Rap Battles of History Season 3

▼ CAST ▼
Miley Cyrus: Michelle Glavan
http://www.youtube.com/MichelleGlavan
http://michelleglavan.com
http://twitter.com/MichelleGlavan

Joan of Arc: Jessi Smiles
Follow Jessi on Vine
http://www.youtube.com/JessiSmiles
http://twitter.com/JessiSmiles__ (Yes, you need the two underscores)

Miley Stewart: Nice Peter
http://www.youtube.com/NicePeter
http://twitter.com/NicePeter | http://instagram.com/nicepeter

Lilly Truscott: EpicLLOYD
http://www.youtube.com/EpicLLOYD
https://twitter.com/theEpicLloyd | http://instagram.com/theepiclloyd

"Friend Zone" by Dylan Garity

"Friend Zone" by Dylan Garity, performed May 6, 2013

Subscribe to Button! New video daily: http://bit.ly/buttonpoetry
Check out "Friend Zone" and more work from Dylan in VIRAL: http://bit.ly/1mfNZ31
Follow Dylan on Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1laz7qM

Dylan Garity, performing in the 3rd round of the Saint Paul Grand Slam Poetry Slam on May 6. Buy his book at the Button Shop: http://buttonpoetry.com/product/blueprints/